


change (is gonna come)

by ToAStranger



Series: when the rain washes you clean (you'll know) [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fear of Change, Gen, M/M, Or like mid-canon?, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 03, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 01:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: It’s the end of May and Dustin is leaving in two days for camp.





	change (is gonna come)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brawlite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/gifts).



It’s the end of May and Dustin is leaving in two days for camp.  

He’s been ranting and raving about  _ Know Where _ for the better part of spring.  Steve’s done a lot of nodding. A lot of  _ mhmm _ s and  _ oh _ s.  

Dustin doesn’t really mind.  He knows Steve’s distracted. Knows that Steve’s been sort of, maybe obsessing over construction of the new Starcourt Mall opening up the first day of June.  Knows that Steve’s been sort of, maybe obsessing over a lot of things. Knows that Steve even got a  _ job _ there, as if he needs it when he’s basically got a house all to himself until August, when his dad comes back to drag him off to  _ real work _ .  

Only Dustin really knows.  And Dustin’s sort of, maybe really fine with that.  

He’s never really had someone like Steve to look up to.  Not really. His dad left when he was little, before Dustin ever knew him, and his mom is great, don’t get him wrong, but she’s his  _ mom _ .  

The point is, Steve is kind of, sort of, maybe the older brother Dustin’s always wanted.  He takes him to the movies, hangs out at the arcade with him and the Party, he even lets them have DND night at his  _ house _ .  And he  _ cooks _ .  Like, bakes cookies and lasagna and shit. 

It’s  _ awesome _ .  

Even if the first time he tried to bake, he ended up setting off the fire alarms.  

Everyone has to start somewhere.  And Steve’s cookies are  _ way _ better than Mrs. Wheeler’s, now. 

_ But the point is _ , tagental cookies aside, Steve is, like,  _ Dustin’s  _ cool thing.  Mike has El. Will has some lingering Upside Down powers.  El has  _ always _ had powers.  Max can destroy them all on  _ Dig Dug _ \-- not to mention she actually  _ beat _ , in front of all of them,  _ Dragon’s Lair _ .  And Lucas-- well, Lucas has  _ Max _ , doesn’t he?  

So, Steve is  _ Dustin’s _ cool thing.  The guy that lets them stay up late at his house and feeds them junk and gets them into the R-Rated movies.  The guy with the fucking  _ bat _ full of  _ nails _ .  The guy who’s kinda a dork, really, now that Dustin’s got him watching all the right movies and Will is shoving comics at him left and right.  The guy who’s got their back, no matter what. 

So, on his last days before he’s off to summer camp, Dustin clings to him.  Just a little. Worried that, like, Steve will  _ forget _ about him during the summer.  Move on to something bigger. Something better. 

Realize that hanging out with Dustin and his dumb friends is, like, really  _ lame _ or something. 

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though.  Smiles, kinda crooked, head cocked as Dustin bounces on his toes in his entryway like Dustin’s a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.  

“I figured you’d wanna hang out with the other shitheads before you left,” Steve says, but Dustin doesn’t miss how  _ fond _ it is; Steve  _ likes _ them; it’s so  _ weird _ ; it’s so  _ great _ .  “I’m not really up to anything, today.  Was gonna wash my car.” 

“I can help with that,” Dustin says, rocking forward, already pulling his backpack around and digging into it for his radio.  “I’ll call the Party over; we can all help out.” 

Steve’s smile just gets a bit wider.  “It won’t take  _ all  _ of you to wash  _ one _ car.” 

“Yeah, but-- Like, we could put up signs, or something!” Dustin says.  “Make a quick buck, washing cars, and then blow it all at the arcade tonight!” 

He’s too eager.  He knows he’s too eager. 

But Steve doesn’t call him on it.  Just nods, shrugs, and opens the door to let Dustin in. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says.  “Lemme change and we’ll go get the other mongrels.” 

“Really?” Dustin asks. 

“Yeah, man,” Steve says.  “I’ll even bring my boom box.  We’ll set up shop outside the grocery store.” 

Dustin can’t help but beam.  “ _ Rad _ .” 

***

The only people they  _ don’t _ pick up are the girls.  Mostly because the last time Steve tried to pick up Max from her house, they’d ended up trapped for a half hour while Neil and Susan Hargrove talked to Steve and while Max’s dickbag older brother stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight, like he wanted to lay Steve out again.  Worse, her brother had been ordered to  _ go with them _ to the movies, to keep on eye on his sister, even though Steve was already there doing that and had assured Mr. Hargrove that Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers were also going to be present.  It was tense and weird and  _ Billy Hargrove _ sat next to them  _ at the movies _ and it was just  _ not good _ \--

Not terrible.  But not good. 

And El is still hidden away at the cabin.  Hopper only lets her go to Steve’s and the Byers’ place, occasionally, but she still can’t be out in public.  Not yet. 

Soon.  But not yet. 

So, by the time Max gets there, they’ve already got the signs posted up-- Will’s handy work and Ms. Byers’ poster board from the shop-- and the soap buckets full-- Lucas and Mike’s complaining aside-- and the music going.  They’re working on other people’s cars, a few smiles and a couple dollars tucked into short pockets, belting out  _ Tears for Fears _ as Steve laughs and dries his Beemer off to the side.  

The rumble of the Camaro is distinctive.  It pulls into one of the empty spots where they’re scrubbing everything down, using a hose from the back of one of the stores to rinse their costumer’s cars, and Max bounds out with a wide smile in a pair of ratty shorts and a yellow tank top.  

Dustin’s heart kind of stops for a second, but Max’s eyes are for Lucas, who carefully and quickly looks away, like he’s  _ shy _ , when her brother steps out after her.  Because while they’re a  _ thing _ , they still don’t exactly  _ broadcast _ it when that douche is around.  Makes Lucas too nervous. 

Dustin can’t help but think she wouldn’t have to hide holding  _ his _ hand, if she wanted.  

But he’s distracted by that train of thought, rather quickly, when he sees Billy Hargrove pull his sunglasses down his nose and eyeball them all like they’re less than the soapy, slick dirt under his boots.  Like he wants to be  _ anywhere _ else. 

And then his gaze shifts, drags over to Steve by his Beemer, and stalls.  

Dustin doesn’t really get  _ why _ .  Steve’s dressed a lot like them-- sneakers, ratty jeans-- but he’s got an old track jersey on, cropped to cut the heat, and his sunglasses are pushed back in his hair.  Mike had sneered something about him looking  _ preppy _ , but, like, Steve was  _ always _ kinda preppy.  Dustin didn’t think Mike had much room to  _ talk _ considering the polos he saw his mom piling into his closet last week.  

It gives Billy Hargrove pause, though.  Makes him shut his door hard. Makes him shove his sunglasses back up his nose.  Makes him stalk over. 

Dustin knows he’s the only one paying attention.  Everyone else is laughing, washing the beat-up pickup truck that old man McPherson paid them  _ ten whole dollars _ to clean for him.  

And, like, it’s a  _ little _ hard to hear over Max snorting at something Will tells her, over Mike wheezing like a kicked mule over the same thing, over Lucas laughing and spraying water in Mike’s face, over the music pouring out of Steve’s boombox, but Dustin can still hear Billy Hargrove  _ sneer _ . 

“Working  _ hard _ , pretty boy?” 

Steve barely looks at him, rolling his eyes, the way he  _ always _ does whenever Billy and Steve are forced to be anywhere near each other.  Like, because he knows how hard Billy can hit, he’s not afraid of him anymore.  Or like, because Billy’s still wary of Max’s wrath, he’s not too worried about Billy making a scene. 

Dustin had asked him, once, back in January how he can  _ stand _ being around him, being on the same basketball team as him, and Steve had just  _ shrugged _ and said:  _ “He’s not actually scary, Dustin.  He’s just kind of a dick. You get used to it.”  _

Dustin still isn’t sure how you get used to  _ that _ . To Billy leaning against Steve’s car, hand on the windshield, leaving smudges across the freshly clean surface.  

“Not gonna say  _ hi _ ?” Billy asks.  “Haven’t seen you since graduation, Harrington.” 

“That was only a week ago, Hargrove.  Don’t tell me you already  _ missed _ me.” Steve says, and Dustin knows Steve’s got, like,  _ problems-- _ obsessions and sometimes something a lot like a  _ death wish _ \-- but he doesn’t expect him to straight up  _ spray Billy Hargrove’s hand  _ with  _ window cleaner _ when he  _ doesn’t move  _ like Billy’s a  _ misbehaving cat _ .  “Did you want your car cleaned?” 

Billy’s shoulders have drawn up, and Dustin almost misses it because Lucas is jabbing him in the side, trying to get him back to task, to drying the front fender of the pickup truck, but he  _ smiles _ at Steve, like he’s  _ delighted _ .  

Doesn’t move his hand.  Steve huffs, that way he does, when he’s getting a headache.  Billy’s grin gets  _ wider _ .  

“Is that an offer?” Billy asks.

“It costs five bucks,” Steve holds out a hand, unimpressed.  

“Seems pricey,” Billy clicks his tongue, leans in a bit more, and Steve leans back and aims the window cleaner at his face.  

Billy  _ cackles _ .  

Dustin doesn’t know how his friends are  _ ignoring _ this. 

“Ten bucks,” Steve says.  

Billy blinks but doesn’t lean away.  “Are you  _ blackballing _ me?” 

Steve’s mouth twitches.  That same face he makes when he’s trying  _ really hard _ not to be amused.  Mostly at someone else’s expense.  

He’s always still trying to be a  _ good person _ , as if Dustin doesn’t think he’s fucking rad already. 

“Not if you pay up,” Steve says, sticking his hand out again.  “Fifteen, now.” 

“ _ Jeezus _ , Harrington, have some  _ mercy _ \--” 

“ _ Twenty _ ,” Steve says. 

“ _ Fine _ , fuck,” Billy finally pulls back, hands up in something like surrender, before going for the back pocket of his jeans and fishing out his wallet with one hand while he wipes the other against his thigh, probably getting the cleaner off of it.  “Ten, just to use the stuff. I’ll wash it myself. Don’t want you idiots fucking touchin’ her.” 

And Dustin doesn’t know what Steve’s  _ thinking _ .  Not really.  He’s honestly, truly got a death wish, Dustin thinks, and he thinks maybe he should’ve, like, talked to a real, actual  _ adult _ about Steve before this.  About how  _ careless _ he can be with himself, how  _ reckless _ Dustin has seen him be since October.  

Because Steve takes Billy Hargrove’s money, grinning as Billy scowls at him, and then he brings his fingers to his lips and  _ whistles _ .  Shrill and loud enough to make Billy jump, since he’s standing  _ right there _ , but Will and Mike and Lucas all perk up and Max follows suit. 

“We’ve got a new customer!” Steve says, clapping Billy on the shoulder, and Dustin thinks Steve’s about to get  _ strangled _ .  “I need two of you on the Camaro.  Lucas? Dustin? How about you?” 

And Dustin thinks he realizes what Steve’s doing.  Thinks he knows how much that’ll piss Billy  _ off _ .  

It does.  If the flex of Billy’s jaw or the curl of his fists is anything to go by.  

“If there’s a single  _ scratch _ \--” Billy starts, but Steve  _ pats his fucking cheek _ as he eases by, smile saccharine and  _ mean _ in a way Dustin doesn’t think he’s ever  _ seen _ , oh, my  _ god _ \--

“Don’t worry, Hargrove.  I’ll take good care of her.” Steve says, and Billy watches him go and Dustin has  _ no idea _ what just happened. 

But that’s how he ends up washing Billy Hargrove’s Camaro, belting out  _ Karma Chameleon  _ while Steve laughs and sprays him with the hose.  

***

The thing is, Dustin’s gotten pretty good at  _ ignoring _ Billy Hargrove.  He’s around enough that it’s either that or constantly be  _ aware _ of him whenever he’s on  _ Max Duty _ .  

That’s usually what he  _ does _ .  Ignores Billy Hargrove when he flirts with girls are the arcade.  Ignores him whenever he drops Max off with them. Just ignores him. 

Which is probably why he’s never  _ noticed _ that Steve, like,  _ talks  _ to him sometimes.  

Talks is probably the wrong word, though.  They don’t  _ talk _ .  They kind of…  _ snip _ , back and forth, like they’re always one second away from throwing hands.  But Steve won’t strike first and Billy won’t either, it seems, not since that night at the Byers’.  

But he can’t  _ help _ but notice it, today.  

He notices it when Billy strips out of his ratty band shirt when Mrs. Wheeler pulls up, and joins them washing cars,  _ flirting _ with  _ Mike’s mom _ , so  _ gross _ , while she watches them.  Notices Steve roll his eyes when Billy spends too much time cleaning the  _ same spot _ and throws a sponge at the back of his head.  Notices Billy get red in the face as he curses Steve out.  Notices Steve hide a smug smile as he goes back to work. 

He notices it as Steve and Billy team up, scrubbing down cars with efficiency they must’ve somehow built over months spent playing basketball together, despite whatever history there was between them.  Notices the way Billy waggles his brows at Steve when a lady from  _ Dustin’s own street _ tucks a ten into Steve’s pant pocket.  Notices the way Steve smiles, tight and tense at the woman, while flipping Billy off behind her back.  

Notices all the little way they try and  _ irritate _ each other-- Steve spraying Billy in the face with the hose on  _ accident _ , Billy spilling a bucket of soapy water out over Steve’s sneakers-- and the way it never gets  _ worse _ .  Like, this is the only way they can keep from breaking each other’s noses or something.  

Dustin’s taking a break, sitting in one of the foldable chairs Steve brought and drinking some juice, when Steve jabs at the bandage on Billy’s right shoulder.  

“What happened?” he asks, not unkindly, but more curious than caring.  

“I turned eighteen,” Billy replies, elbowing Steve out of the way as he towel dries the hood of the VW in front of them.  

Steve’s brows fly up.  “You got a tattoo?” he asks, like that’s some kind of universal understanding, that turning eighteen means getting a tattoo, but Dustin doesn’t think Steve has one. 

“Yeah,” Billy grunts, glancing at him, his own sunglasses tucked up into his curls, his boots long gone by now, jeans rolled up, just like Steve’s, but Dustin thinks he’s still ridiculous for walking around all bare chested.  Nobody wanted to  _ see _ that.  “Why? Wanna see it?” 

“Sure,” Steve shrugs.  

Billy blinks at him.  Squints. Huffs and then shakes his head.  

Almost like he’s  _ used _ to this.  To Steve being a total shit to him-- deservedly so, in Dustin’s opinion-- only to be  _ nice _ .  

“Fuckin’  _ whiplash _ , I  _ swear _ ,” Billy grumbles, but then he’s drying his hands and turning so Steve can see his shoulder, peeling the tape down and away so Steve can see the ink drying in his skin.  

Dustin rolls his eyes when he sees it.  So hard he nearly gives himself a headache. 

“A skull, huh?” Steve asks, lips pursed and twitching again, biting down more laughter Dustin knows is more mocking than amused.  “A  _ smoking _ skull.  Very…  _ you _ .” 

Billy grins, tongue between his teeth, and he  _ flexes _ .  “Chicks dig the dark shit.” 

“Uh huh,” Steve nods, but his voice is so  _ dry _ , Dustin could  _ die _ .  “Sure they do.” 

“You don’t like it?” Billy asks, frowning, brows drawing together, like it’s actually  _ important _ or something.  

“I don’t feel one way or another about it,” Steve shakes his head, says it quick, because he’s mean sometimes but he’s not  _ mean _ ; Dustin knows that best.  “Did it hurt?” 

“Nah,” Billy says.  “Barely itched.” 

Steve snorts.  “Yeah, okay. It’s cool, though.  Very metal.” 

And then he’s back to drying off the car.  Dustin watches. 

But Billy-- Billy stands there for a second, maybe two.  Stands there, smoothing the bandage back up over his shoulder, and watches Steve  _ too _ .  Watches him with an expression Dustin didn’t think Billy Hargrove knew how to  _ make _ .  

Like he was  _ happy _ .  

Dustin chugs his juice and gets back to washing off a Ford with Mike and Will.  He doesn’t know, really, what to make of all that. 

***

By the time afternoon rolls around, Dustin and the rest of the party are  _ starving _ .  Their fingers are pruny, their clothes wet, and Mike’s nose is sunburnt.  

Steve claps Dustin on the shoulder, holding out a wad of cash.  “Wanna hit the arcade and get some pizza?” 

“ _ Fuck _ , yes,” Dustin says, not even wincing when Steve cuffs him over the back of the head.  

“Let’s clean up and get outta here, then.” 

So, they do.  It’s quick work.  Just stuffing the signs in the dumpster, rinsing their feet off, and dumping the dirty soap water before loading up the back of the Beemer.  

While they finish, Steve talks to Billy.  Dustin watches from the front seat, honking the horn when Steve takes too long.

When he climbs in, he gives Dustin a dirty look. 

“Oh,  _ sure _ ,” he says.  “Get all impatient when I just convinced Billy to take Max to the arcade with you guys.” 

“ _ How _ ?” Lucas asks, leaning forward in the back, eyes wide and eager. 

“I bribed him,” Steve shrugs.  “Besides, he helped. I gave him a cut of the profits.” 

Dustin leans over the gearshift and smacks a wet kiss to Steve’s cheek, laughing as he’s shoved away.  

“ _ Gross _ , Dustin.” 

***

They go  _ straight  _ for  _ Dragon’s Lair _ when they get there.  They’ve all been trying to beat the game since Max has.  

Steve calls after them, tells them he’s gonna get them food and their usual booth.  

Dustin kind of loves him.  Just a little. But he’d never, like,  _ say _ that.  

He loses track as Lucas keeps getting electrocuted, over and over again, by a magic orb.  He realizes he’s hungry the sixth time Lucas hits his fist against the machine, and he pulls away from their huddle to go find Steve. 

A song by Daryl Hall & John Oates is playing.  Dustin bobs his head along as he bounces along the back wall, looking for Steve’s booth.  

He finds him tucked away in the back corner and, like, he’s not  _ shocked  _ that Billy’s lounging across from him, eating a slice from their platter, but he’s kind of  _ surprised _ .  Billy doesn’t usually hang around Steve. Not even when Steve’s the only other person old enough to hangout with here.  

Dustin tries not to pay much mind.  Just slides in next to Steve and grabs for a slice. 

It burns his mouth and he curses.  Steve laughs a little next to him, but he’s, like,  _ actually talking _ to Billy. 

“-- nothing wrong with peppers on pizza,” he says, droll, patting Dustin on the head idly. 

“You’re a fuckin’  _ trip _ , Harrington.  The only way to eat a slice is if it’s covered in meat.  No veggies.” Billy grouses, and Dustin notes that he’s got a paper plate in front of him with onions and peppers on it, like he picked them off.  “Next thing y’know, you’re gonna tell me  _ pineapple _ is fine on pizza.” 

“That’s cuz it  _ is _ ,” Steve says, grinning.  

Billy rolls his eyes skyward.  “You’ve got no fuckin’  _ taste _ .  I mean, I  _ knew _ that, but that’s just  _ disgraceful _ .” 

Steve shrugs.  “Sweet and salty.  What’s not to like? It’s like a party in your mouth.” 

Billy chokes.  

Dustin isn’t really sure  _ why _ .  But Steve’s laughing at him, so Dustin does, too. 

Billy’s gaze flits to him and then back to Steve.  He clears his throat, lip curling up, in something like disgust.  

“No taste,” he jabs a finger at Steve, then reaches over the table and plucks up Steve’s drink, sucking soda from the straw.  “You’re a disaster.” 

“Takes one to know one,” Steve says, and drags Billy’s paper plate across the table, plucking up a slice of bell pepper and popping it into his mouth.  

“Don’t even know why I’m  _ talkin’ _ to you,” Billy huffs. 

“Who else would you talk to?” Steve asks.  “Unless you wanna have a deep, scientific conversation with Henderson, here.” 

“ _ Kill me _ ,” Billy grunts, head falling back against the cracked red cushion of the booth.  “I need a smoke.” 

“You out?” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, chewing on Steve’s straw when he takes another drink.  

“I think I’ve got some in the Beemer,” Steve offers, almost tentative, and Billy squints at him before nodding slow. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“You good, Dusthead?” Steve asks, twisting to look down at him. 

Dustin bobs his head, eyes darting between the two of them.  “M’good.” 

“Alright,” Steve says, then jerks his head at Billy.  “C’mon.”

Dustin slides out so Steve can climb out of the booth.  He watches them go, brows drawn together, as Billy trails after Steve.  As Steve rolls his eyes, again, at something Billy says to him. As Billy grins, a private and small thing, when Steve’s not looking. 

_ Weird _ . 

***

It’s Max that eventually pulls them away from the games.  It’s well into the evening, and Dustin’s  _ buzzing _ from actually defeating the dragon and winning a kiss from Daphne.  

Mike won’t stop pouting.  Will won’t stop hitting Dustin on the back, smile wide, and Dustin loves it.  Loves them. His best friends. 

Knows that he’ll miss them while he’s away at camp.  But knows that--  _ hopes _ that-- not too much will change while he’s gone.  Thinks this summer is going to be  _ great _ .  Floats on that high all the way out the door of the arcade, his friends picking up their leftover quarters from the table somewhere inside while he goes to tell Steve they’re ready to leave, picturing a summer full of adventure.  

He falters to a stop just outside the doors when he sees them.  Sees Steve, back to his own car door, Billy looming in his space, plucking at his cropped jersey and grinning slow and sly.  Sees the rigid line of Steve’s shoulders, the pink on his face brighter somehow in the light cast by the arcade’s sign, and the way he’s leaning back against the side of the Beemer.  

The way Billy’s staring at him, eyes kind of wide, kind of eager, in a way Dustin’s never seen him. 

He thinks they’re gonna  _ fight _ .  Thinks Billy’s trying to intimidate Steve, or something.  Thinks something’s  _ wrong _ . 

Thinks that until Billy leans in, head tilting over, to whisper something in Steve’s ear.  Until Steve’s shoulders slump and his eyes go wide. Until Billy’s fingers dance against Steve’s bare side.  

But then the door is swinging open behind Dustin, Max and Mike arguing as they step out, and Billy’s jerking back and Steve’s still staring at him with his eyes still all wide, and Dustin jerks into motion. 

“Hey, we’re ready!” he calls. 

Steve blinks and looks over at him, his face still red, and Dustin had thought he was  _ mad _ but now he thinks maybe he’s  _ embarrassed _ .  

Billy has put so much space between them.  Has that tight expression on his face he usually does, that Dustin’s  _ used _ to seeing, and Dustin feels something in his stomach twist.  

“C’mon,” Steve says.  “Let’s get going, then.” 

Billy paces over to the Camaro.  “Let’s go, shitbird.” 

“Fuck you,” Max says, but it’s not as full of venom as it usually is, and she’s still smiling as she shoves at Lucas’ shoulder in a weird  _ goodbye _ .  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dustin?  Before you take off?” 

“Yeah,” Dustin says, voice cracking, eyes still kinda caught somewhere between Steve and Billy, even though both of them are already climbing into their cars; he clears his throat and blinks, smiling at her.  “Yeah, totally. Sounds great.” 

“Great,” Max says, hugging him, quick, before bounding off to the Camaro, flipping Billy off as he revs the engine in his impatience.  

The guys all start piling into the Beemer.  Dustin takes a little longer. Watches as Billy stares at Steve, window down, and how Steve  _ doesn’t  _ stare back.  Not until Dustin’s in the passenger seat and Steve’s glancing, furtive and quick, over at Billy. 

“Later, Harrington,” Billy calls, and Dustin watches Steve’s throat work, watches him nod and wave a hand before Billy’s ripping out of the parking lot. 

Dustin slumps in his seat, frowning as he buckles up, something dreadful already welling up in his chest. 

***

Steve drops Dustin off last.  He’s the furthest from Steve’s house, outside of Will, but he always drops Dustin off last.  

He pulls into park at the curbside. 

“You okay, man?” Steve asks, twisting to look at him, frown creasing his brow. 

“Yeah,” Dustin mutters.  “Yeah, I’m-- fine. You know.  Chill.” 

Steve cracks a lopsided smile.  “You worried about camp?” 

Dustin shifts.  “A little?” 

“Don’t be,” Steve says, ruffling his hair.  “You’ll do great. You’ll make a bunch of friends.  And when you get back, we’ll all be here. Same as always.” 

But Dustin-- Dustin doesn’t think that’s exactly  _ true _ .  He doesn’t really think things are gonna be the same and that’s--

It’s  _ awful _ .  It’s awful and it hits him hard and suddenly and he crosses his arms as if that will push the sensation crawling in his gut and up into his chest back  _ down _ . 

He thinks of  _ bigger and better _ things, of Steve not being his  _ cool older friend _ anymore, of the way Steve looked at Billy when Billy pulled away and he doesn’t--

He doesn’t  _ get it _ . 

“Hey,” Steve says, knocking a loose fist against his shoulder.  “Hey, c’mon. Cheer up, kid.” 

“You’ll be here, when I get back?” Dustin asks, even though that’s not what he  _ wants _ to ask, and Steve blinks at him.  

“Yeah, man.” Steve says.  “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.  Nothing’s gonna change.” 

Dustin blinks a few times, eyes kind of burning.  “You’ll still wanna hang out?” 

Steve’s lips press thin.  “Yeah, Dustin. I’m still gonna want to hang out.  Who else will I geek out with about  _ Star Wars _ ?” 

Dustin lets that bring a smile to his face. 

“I dunno,” he says.  “I think you’re gonna go all  _ dark side _ while I’m gone.” 

“Me?” Steve asks, grin slow.  “Nah. I’m Han Solo, remember?” 

Dustin scoffs.  “You’re an  _ Ewok _ .  I’m  _ definitely  _ Han Solo.” 

Steve’s nose scrunches up, but he’s laughing.  “C’mon, you’re Chewie. This should be  _ obvious _ .” 

Dustin beams at him and bares his teeth, throat warbling around a mockery of Chewie’s call.  

Steve shoves his ball cap down on his head, pushing at him. Laughing the entire time.  Eyes bright. 

“Go on, kid.  Before your mom comes out and drags me inside to try one of her weird casseroles, again.”

And Dustin does.  He’s still shaky, still worried-- so  _ worried _ , now-- that everything is gonna change.  But with Steve smiling at him as he climbs out of the car, he feels a little more okay with that. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Dustin asks. 

“Couldn’t get rid of me, if you tried, kid.” Steve says. 

It sounds like a promise. 


End file.
